


The Football Match

by i_am_deaded



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Family Fluff, Football | Soccer, Gen, Parentlock, Sherlock's Antics, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 06:34:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1808851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_deaded/pseuds/i_am_deaded
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Random unintentional tumblr prompt:<br/>"the question is who in your otp is the enthusiastic parent that cheers way too loudly at soccer games<br/>and which is the one who isn’t allowed at the soccer games anymore because they keep yelling at the ref"</p><p>So this just kind of happened... :)</p><p>John takes his child to a soccer/football game and Sherlock comes along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Football Match

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first time posting on ao3. I just thought this might be a cute little story to share, so I hope you like it. Not britpicked, but I tried to make it good. Feel free to point out errors, or comment on what you liked/didn't like. Just nice things though, please no meanies :) Enjoy.

John is about to take his kid to the game when Mary calls from work. It's an emergency; she won't be able to make it tonight. John tells her it's fine, he can handle taking their kid. He hangs up, sighs, and then ushers his child into their car, then slips in the driver's seat. Just as he is about to leave, he has a thought. He picks up his mobile phone and dials the number he knows by heart. It rings.

"Hurry up Dad, we're gonna be late..."

"Sorry love, just a minute," John replies, looking in the rear-view mirror.

It picks up on the fifth ring. "John? Please don't be boring."

"Hey to you too, Sherlock. I was just calling to ask if you've got anything on at the moment."

A pause, then: "Not at the moment, no. I've just wrapped up another boring case from Lestrade. What is this about?"

"I'd thought you might be able to deduce that," says John, smiling.

"Well, it's a Thursday, and if I remember correctly, which I always do, your child has a football match today. You do realise you'll be late if we continue this conversation..." says Sherlock.

"Yes, I realise that." John looks in the rear-view mirror again. "I was wondering if you'd like to come watch?" A gasp of delight comes from the backseat.

"That doesn't interest me at all, John..."

"Please, please,  _please_ , Uncle Sherlock! Won't you come and watch me play tonight?" pleads the voice loudly from the back seat.

John grins and almost laughs outright when Sherlock concedes. "Ugh, fine, if I must. I haven't got anything else to keep me from being bored out of my skull this entire evening. Where is it?"

John gives him the address, and Sherlock says he'll meet them there. He hangs up and John starts the car.

"Hurry up, Dad, we are already late! Go, go, go!"

       ***

They get there barely 15 minutes before the game, and John watches as the teams finish their warm ups. The game is about to start when he sees the familiar blueish-black belstaff coat out his peripheral vision.

"Glad you could make it," says John as Sherlock sits down beside him.

"Well, I had nothing better to do. Might as well distract myself with mindless sports rather than using those nicotine patches you hate."

"I'd rather the patches than the smoking. How've cases been?"

"Boring." Somehow John knows this would be his answer.

"Well I can tell you that you will probably be very entertained by the match tonight. Their team is up against one of the better teams in the league."

"Doubt it," says Sherlock, checking his mobile.

John smiles. "We'll see."

       ***

"Go, go, go! That's it! Almost... Ah, so close!" The whistle blows and John sits down after standing up for the exciting action down on the offensive side.

"No, no, no! Wrong! That was completely wrong!" Sherlock is still standing after trying to see around John's enthusiastic cheering on the last play. "This referee is completely blind! Can he not see how that imbecile completely blocked your child's opportunity to shoot! Unacceptable!" Sherlock rants as John pulls him down forcefully.

"Shut up, you git, or you'll get kicked out!" John says to him, irritated. Sherlock was completely over exaggerating. 

"No John, this cannot be allowed to happen. I am going to set this imbecile straight." Before John could stop him, Sherlock vaults away towards the oblivious referee on the edge of the field.

John watches blearily as Sherlock calls to the ref, and proceeds to spit out observations that were most likely about him and his lack of competence as a football referee. John see's the man's face go pale, then red, and an argument ensues. No doubt Sherlock offended him incredibly, because the next thing John knows Sherlock stalks off the field while the referee yells at him. He marches towards John, whose face has now gone from amusement to worry.

"John, we're leaving. Now."

John looks at him incredulously. "Sherlock, I can't leave. The game hasn't finished yet."

"Well I can't take any more of this incompetence."

"Can you at least hold on until the game is over? There's only about five minutes left." 

" _John,"_  Sherlock almost whines, then flops back down in the stands next to John, hunching his shoulders. He pulls out his phone again, checking it for the umpteenth time hoping for a text from Lestrade. Nothing.

     ***

The game ends in a tie, which Sherlock is not happy about. He keeps telling John and his child that their team would have won if not for the incompetence and utter stupidity of the ref. The kid just giggles at Sherlock's rants. 

As they head towards John's car, he says, "Well I'm never going to watch another minute of this ever again. Good evening, John."

Sherlock turns around and John calls out to him. "Wait up, Sherlock. Why don't I give you a ride home? You don't mind, do you love?"

"It's fine," says John's child, grinning.

Sherlock turns back around. "Fine," he says, walking over to the passenger side.

The ride to Baker Street is a quiet one. Sherlock messes around on his phone the entire way, and John doesn't want to make his mood any worse than it already is. Small sleeping sounds come from the backseat. The game had been long and tough.

Once they arrive at 221B, Sherlock gets out and closes the door. John gets out as well and meets him on the pavement.

"Thanks for coming today, I'm glad you were there. You know how much that child adores you."

Sherlock looks at him for a moment. "My pleasure. Won't be doing it again though, so don't ask." He smirks.

"No, I don't really think that would be a wise idea either," says John, returning his smirk.

There's a moment of silence, both men not looking directly at the other. Finally, John says, "Well, goodnight Sherlock. Hope an interesting murder comes up soon." He pats Sherlock on the shoulder. "Thanks again for coming and supporting the team."

"Again, my pleasure. Goodnight, John."

Sherlock turns and enters the flat, closing the door softly behind him. He leans back against the door for a moment, and says quietly to himself, "Thank you, John." He then heads up the stairs, calling out a greeting to Mrs. Hudson, and flops down onto his sofa, his hands in their proper thinking position, steepled under his chin.

Outside, John returns to the car and starts to drive off. He hears a sleepy voice from the backseat. "I'm glad Uncle Sherlock came today, even though he got angry at the ref." A yawn, then: "I know he's not technically really my uncle, but I'm glad he is anyway."

John smiled fondly. "Yes, me too, love, me too."

If there was a flutter at the window, John didn't see it. The two Watsons then started the short drive home.

 ~~Fin~~

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, you read this thing? Congrats, you must be happy (or really bored). It made me a bit sad to write the end, but such is life. Leave a comment, kudos or whatever you like. Thanks again for reading!


End file.
